Just Like Him
by CarmenMauri
Summary: Jesse doesn't care about the school. Hell, he doesn't even care about McKinley's glee club. He's here for some background information on Rachel Berry. - Before he transferred schools to make her his girlfriend, Jesse asked around about Rachel.


**AN: **Special thanks to ladidai for being my beta (and for those of you who haven't read his fics, you should definitely check them out!). And I want to thank msfenne and 2q21 for having read earlier drafts of this fic. I appreciated your input, guys!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Glee. I merely used Ryan Murphy's amazing characters to get me out of my writer's block. All typos, errors and overall crappiness belong to me.

* * *

><p>He runs a strong hand through his chestnut coloured hair, bored. Waiting. His black Range Rover idling in the McKinley parking lot as he looks around, searching for Lauren Zizes. She promised she'd be on time and, already, she's a minute late. Jesse is <em>not<em> a patient person. Every second that ticks past is making his left eye twitch in aggravation.

All he wants is some info and, apparently, Zizes has the school down.

Jesse doesn't care about the school. Hell, he doesn't even care about McKinley's glee club. He's here for some background information. Background information on Rachel Berry. It's a nice name, he thinks. And from what he's heard so far, she's a nice—albeit bossy, demanding, abrasive, controlling... really, the list goes on—person. What he's managed to collect so far is just the tip of the iceberg: her Facebook (12 friends), Myspace (4 contacts), and the stuff he's been able to dig up from talking to people who were in Mock UN, Renaissance Club, Speech Club, Muslim Students Club and Black Student's Union with her.

Nice name, nice girl. But despite these things, she's pretty much alone in the world.

And exactly how nice is she? Is she the trusting kind of nice that begs for affection? Or is she the "good Samaritan" kind that lends a helping hand, but is wary of people's intentions?

Jesse needs to know.

He watches as another minute ticks past and is this close to hightailing out of the parking lot and giving up altogether on this ridiculous assignment. But he (begrudgingly) remembers why he's here waiting for a stranger. His loyalty has often led to mistakes, but he can't refuse a favour for Shelby of all people.

So he waits. And as he waits, he remembers.

Remembers sitting in the audience. Watching. Observing. Taking note. He remembers the moment when he realized that Vocal Adrenaline was definitely going to Nationals. Nude Directions, he thought with a smirk, would never pose a real threat. And if it wasn't for that girl belting out Streisand, he's positive that he and Shelby would have left already. But, as it happened, he could feel Shelby's nails digging into his arm the moment No Directions'—really, it was too easy—single star started belting her solo.

Upon turning to face his coach—a woman he respected above anyone else, a woman whose talent alone propelled him to be better, a woman he admired more than he did his own mother—he saw the tears in her eyes.

There's a knock on his window and Jesse has to do a slight double-take when he comes face-to-face with who he assumes is none other than Lauren Zizes. He forgets all about Shelby and Sectionals 2009 as he takes in the girl. To say he's intimidated is an understatement. The girl looks tough and, judging from the scowl on her face, she means business. He winces, attempting a smile, raises a finger, asking for a moment, and presses the button on his door to lower the automatic window.

"Zizes, Lauren?" He cocks an eyebrow.

"St. James, I presume," she says. "I expect you have my payment." She holds out a hand.

"Yes. Three Mr. Crunchie bars. As we discussed," he says, flashing his pearly whites. Lauren blinks in response.

He clears his throat.

"Wanna jump in my car?" He sweeps his eyes over the parking lot. "I'd rather that nobody sees us..."

Zizes rolls her eyes, but makes her way to his passenger door, waiting for the lock to come up. She climbs aboard, appraises the luxurious automobile, and reaches a hand to touch the radio dial. Jesse stretches his arm out, blocking her, and shakes his head.

"I'd rather we get down to business," he drawls. Honestly, the only reason he's here is for the inside scoop on the Berry girl and unless Lauren gives that to him, this entire trip will have been made in vain. And Jesse? He hates wasting his precious time. He could be doing vocal runs right now. _God_!

Lauren gives him a side glance and rolls her eyes. Sensing her annoyance, Jesse puts his years of acting to use as he smiles as sweetly as he can. There is no sense in angering his informant, after all.

"Well, I took the liberty of securing these," Lauren reaches into her messenger bag and pulls out photocopies of what appears to be sheet music. She hands them to Jesse and he pushes them away. Jesse St. James is a lot of things: calculating, manipulative, self-serving, egotistical, really, a _lot_ of things, but he is in no way a cheater. At least not in the _actual_ sense of the word.

"No, no, no," he shakes his head. "I want information on _Berry_, not sheet music from your school's glee club!"

"Don't hiss at me," Lauren says apathetically. If it weren't for the annoyed look on her face, Jesse wouldn't know she was upset. "And FYI, these sheet music thingies were something Berry came up with. Look them over. They might give you some... insight about her," she says as she shrugs.

Reluctantly, Jesse takes the papers and looks through the song titles.

_Hello, Goodbye_

_Hello, Again_

_Hello Hello_

_Hello, Little Girl_

_If You See Her, Say Hello_

_Hello, Dolly!_

"When did you secure these?"

"Just last week. My spies inform me that Schuester operates on a week-by-week basis. Apparently this week's assignment is a song with the word 'hello' in the title."

"Who's your spy? I thought you worked alone," Jesse doesn't like middle-men and, by the looks of it, Zizes is just that: the middle person. Yeah, he can't have that. He can't trust someone with _secondary _information.

"Don't lose your hair over this, buddy," Lauren says with a smirk, already peeling back the wrapping of her second Mr Crunchie bar. She plows on, her mouth full of chocolate. "You'll have to ask nicely if you wanna talk to him."

"Him?"

"Yeah, yeah. Him."

"Great, now how about a more specific clue, besides this individual's _gender_?" Jesse spits out sarcastically. "You know, like their _name_." He narrows his eyes just as Lauren does and he feels the need to apologize, but his pride won't let him. Instead, he cocks a perfectly manicured eyebrow, challenging the girl.

In turn, she cocks her head, appraising him. With a roll of her bespectacled brown eyes, she finally relents.

"Abrams. His name is Abrams. He's a member of the glee club and he's in the AV club with me. You could say we... roll in the same circles."

"Abrams," Jesse pulls out a program from the Sectionals competition and goes through the names, landing on _Artie Abrams._ He looks skyward, trying to recall the six male performers. Only one of them could really dance, a tall young man of Asian descent and it was clear he felt the most at ease doing the simple dance routine. But the other guys, Jesse shudders inwardly.

First off, there was a scrawny kid in a wheelchair who couldn't really partake in the choreography, totally putting a damper on everything; another scrawny kid, shimmying in the background—this one at least had impeccable hair and, for that, Jesse had to give him props; another guy with a ridiculous strip of hair for a haircut, who merely stomped the steps; and an African American who seemed like a fish out of water. And don't get him started on their male lead... He was, for lack of a better word, pathetic. With two left feet and an obvious lack of formal training, it really was a wonder how he could keep up with the spirited Rachel Berry. But, when compared to the other miscreants on stage, he was, Jesse had to admit, the best suited. Jesse couldn't deny he had _charisma_ and the way he and Rachel looked at one another, the way they sang _to_ one another... they had a real rapport.

Compared to the school for the deaf and the school for criminals, New Defections really was the best choice. Although, if Jesse was a show choir judge, none of those teams would even make the cut. They were _spitting_ in the face of show choir! It was sacrilegious!

He can feel Lauren staring at him, waiting for him, and faintly hears her scoff.

"Are you doubting my information?" she finally asks, her tone dripping with annoyance.

"No, not your information..." Jesse replies, absent-mindedly, already trying to figure out how he could speak to this Abrams kid. "I'm just mulling over how they managed to place."

"Why do you care?"

"I don't. Trust me. I merely think they're undeserving. When they go against..." Jesse clears his throat and looks back at Lauren out the corner of his eye. He'd never specified why he wanted the information, let alone his true allegiance. He quickly wonders how loyal she is to her school and whether it will upset her to know she's conversing with a spy. Granted, Jesse doesn't want to use the information to beat Nude Erections (Vocal Adrenaline won't _need_ help), but still. "When they go against more challenging teams," he finishes.

"I don't care," Lauren shrugs her right shoulder. "Whatever your reasons, I just wanted my Mr. Crunchie bars," she adds, biting into one of the chocolates for effect. "Oh," she manages to say through the mouthful. "Abrams has a website. HotWheelz—with a z—dot com. His contact information is there." Well that solves one problem. "Anyway." She slings her messenger bag over her shoulder. "Thanks for the payment. Good luck digging up dirt on Berry. She's trustworthy. Dependable. There isn't too much dirt you can find on her, but, who knows? Maybe you'll get lucky."

"Wait, wait," Jesse says the instant Lauren pushes the car door open. "Trustworthy? Elaborate."

She lets out an exasperated breath. "She's honest. Wouldn't hurt a fly. I know her type. She's put through hell by the morons at this school, but she plows on. She's got spunk." She smiles a bit as she says this then casts a disdainful look at Jesse and heaves herself out. "Kay. I'm bored now. Bye."

Jesse watches his informant shove a scrawny kid out of her way. If someone as tough and admittedly terrifying as Lauren can appreciate Rachel's persona, Jesse knew he had to meet her. Promise or no promise, he is definitely intrigued. Putting the car in drive, he pulls out of his spot, remembering his promise to Shelby.

* * *

><p><em>"Shelby? What's the matter?" Jesse asked once they were out in the lobby. She'd turned to him, a steady stream of tears falling down her face.<em>

_"That's—that's my daughter," she choked out, leaning against a chair for support._

_"Wait, you have a daughter?" He glanced back at the closed doors and remembered the girl belting a Barbra song like she was born to play Fanny. He looked back at his mentor and realized both women had the same dark hair, the same prominent nose, and the same plump lips. "She... she kind of looks like you."_

_"Jesse, you have to talk to her!" Shelby suddenly exclaimed, latching onto his arm. "You have to," she persisted, ignoring his undignified sputtering._

_"_Talk_ to her? Why?"_

_"Because she needs to know me. _I _need to know her."_

_People started filtering out of the auditorium, but Shelby kept crying._

_"Befriend her. I don't know! Just do it. Promise me you'll do it."_

_"Befriend her? Shelby, I mean, with all due respect, but are you insane?"_

_"Please, Jesse. You're the only person I can trust with this."_

_Noticing the crushed look on her face, he reluctantly agreed. "What now?"_

He stops at a light and seriously considers phoning Shelby to tell her he gives up. It's not right for him to do this... loyalty or not, his intuition is telling him this might cost him. And as intrigued as he is about Rachel and as much impact as Lauren's words have on him, he doesn't like the fact that something about this girl _already_ has his mind spinning. Shelby might have been his reason for going on this search for information, but Lauren's words triggered something in him. A girl with spunk presents a challenge; a challenge that Jesse's competitive spirit craves.

He shakes his head clear of that ridiculous notion. He was asked to _befriend_ the starlet... not get into some tumultuous love affair that is sure to spawn several TV movie adaptations and at least one Broadway musical. He needs to focus on facts. Jesse can handle facts.

The facts are these: Rachel, aged fifteen, is Shelby Corcoran's biological daughter. Shelby, who has been absent from Rachel's entire life, now wishes to communicate with her, but given the adoption agreement, she's not allowed to reach out to Rachel until her eighteenth birthday. Shelby is desperate. Rachel is talented. Jesse has great hair.

The light changes, forcing Jesse to look away from his reflection in the rearview mirror and drive. He makes a left turn, opting to go to his favourite music store, Kubrick and Music, a music store that also specializes in Stanley Kubrick paraphernalia. Jesse doesn't normally find himself at this record store. It is, after all, nearly three hours away from Akron, but now that he finds himself in Lima, he might as well look in and see if they received "American Idiot: The Original Broadway Cast Recording". He knows it won't be out for another three months, but he also knows that their stock boy, Tommy Frank, has contacts in Broadway and has occasionally sold him a bootleg copy. _Occasionally_ being the operative word.

Tommy was a four-year senior enrolled at Carmel. Jesse didn't care much for Tommy who was too flashy and didn't have one-tenth of his talent; and that's the popular unbiased opinion. But after his accident, Tommy has stopped doing favours for Jesse. It's not as if Jesse meant to shove him off the stage. Tommy was in his spot! There's bad blood between them now but Jesse really couldn't care less. Unless he's in dire need for a bootleg Broadway recording, that is.

The regular staff nods at him in hello and he makes his way through the aisles, stopping when he spots a flash of dark brown hair and a short pleated skirt. He appreciates the view, but when the girl turns slightly to look through the discount bin, he can't believe his luck.

_Rachel Berry_.

He hides behind the stack of vinyl records, one side of his face slowly peeking out. When his blue eyes land on his target once more, he allows himself the luxury of really _admiring_ Rachel Berry. The first time he'd seen her, he'd been amazed by the sheer power of her magnificent voice and awed by her demure stature (especially next to that gargantuan oaf that passed for a male lead) to really _see _her. Sure, he'd noticed how much she looked like Shelby, but he's never been one to check out his mentor. It's interesting that in all of his conversations with the males in her extracurricular activities at McKinley, none of them said anything about how... _striking_ she is.

Jesse watches as she browses through the numerous albums, engrossed in what she's doing. Her movements are soft and precise, as though she's still under the ever present scrutiny of a panel of judges. When she kneels down to look through the albums on the bottom shelf, she delicately folds her legs at the knee and takes great pains to keep her modesty, despite her tiny skirt and mile-long legs. Her glossy brown hair falls in smooth waves past her shoulders, tickling the apple of her cheek. Jesse can see the slight smile on her face, as her full lips—almost identical to Shelby's—twitch. He can't hold back the soft sigh he lets out when he sees the soft blush creep along her cheeks, giving her an ethereal look. This girl is beautiful. Talented. Pure.

Screw befriending her. Jesse recognizes a challenge when he sees one and Rachel Berry is a challenge he doesn't want to lose. He absolutely _has _to woo her. Shelby will appreciate his intercession regardless of the method.

He slowly turns on his heel, careful so she doesn't see him, and makes up his mind to contact Artie "Hot Wheelz" Abrams as soon as he can.

* * *

><p>He presses the phone to his ear, waiting for Artie to pick up.<p>

"Who dis be?" A man with a deep voice answers on the second ring.

"Uh, hi," Jesse says, quickly glancing at his cell to make sure he did dial the right number. "I'm looking for Artie Abrams? Did - did I dial the wrong number?"

"Nah, it's a'ight. It's Artie here."

"Oh."

"You still haven't answered my question. Who dis be?" The originally deep timbre of the voice is gone and Jesse notices with a smirk that this voice has a slight nasal intonation; a stark contrast to the voice that first answered. Jesse scoffs inwardly. _Poser._

"Right." Jesse forces a smile. "I contacted you about your glee club." He hears an audible gasp and hears papers rustling on the other line. "Artie?"

"Yeah, sorry!" Comes a breathless reply. "What - uh, exactly do you want to know?"

Jesse's thought about it. He's going to be honest and direct with Arthur Abrams. More or less. He was slightly vague about the reason for his call earlier and he's certain that Artie believes he's a show choir consultant. Like anyone could ever help that measly show choir beat Vocal Adrenaline at Regionals. And, not to mention, who is Jesse to dash Artie's hopes and dreams so quickly? If Artie wants to live in the dream world where his show choir actually stands a chance, it's his prerogative.

Besides, he needs Artie to spill on Rachel.

"I want to know every little thing you know about your female lead."

"Ra-Rachel?"

"Yes."

"I thought you were calling about my glee club...? New Directions. We won our sectionals and Mr. Schue-"

"I know about your glee club," Jesse cuts in. "But I asked about Rachel Berry. She is your female lead after all, and from what I saw of her at Sectionals, she has the most talent. But I want to know what you've managed to glean about her. You do speak to her, don't you?"

"Well, see, it's complicated."

"Enlighten me."

Artie heaves a deep sigh from the other end and Jesse has to remind himself that the creases he gets on his forehead when he rolls his eyes will become permanent if he's not careful. So, he dutifully counts to ten and waits for the other boy's reply.

"See, we're what you would call socially inept. New Directions, that is."

"Oh... kay," is Jesse's reply.

Artie gives a slight chuckle. "Yeah, well, we're no _Vocal Adrenaline_ or anything," Jesse smiles. "I mean, we're better than the the rest of the show choirs in our section, but show choir isn't... well, respected at McKinley. It's kinda hard to run the school when your club consists of rejects and outcasts."

_Figures_, Jesse thinks with a frown. He knows McKinley's glee club is a joke, but it bothers him that someone as talented as Rachel is stuck in their world. Has she settled for mediocrity, he wonders, getting more frustrated by the minute. He takes a deep calming breath and reminds himself that it's not his business. He is doing this for Shelby. Mostly.

"And what about Rachel?"

"Well, Rachel's target practice."

"Elaborate," he orders, not liking Artie's choice of words. "Please," he adds, remembering that saying about flies and honey.

"Well," Artie starts before clearing his throat. "Thing is, you don't know McKinley. If you're different, you might as well paint a big bullseye on your forehead. And Rachel? She's different. I mean _way_ different. Think _Men Are from Mars Women Are from Venus _to the nth power. And she does nothing to tone it down. She wants to be in the spotlight so badly that it's contributed a lot to her social isolation. Bottom line, nobody likes her and she doesn't exactly make it easy for us to feel especially loyal to her. I mean, sure. She's talented, yo, but that's not enough for any of us to really stick our necks out for her."

"So what I'm getting from all of this is she's your star and you all use her. Is that it?"

"No, not exactly."

"Again. Enlighten me. Because the way you're saying all of this makes me think you glee club kids are aware of Rachel's talent and gave her the solo at your sectionals competition, but that if something were to happen to her, you would all turn your backs on her. Is that it?"

"Geez, playah. Chill."

"I am _not _your _playah _and no, I will not _chill_. You promised to answer my questions. Start answering."

"Wait, who are you?"

"I told you," Jesse falters, realizing that Artie's catching on. "We spoke earlier about the..." _Shit._ "Your glee club. New Directions. I was given your phone number, Artie and I thought I could contact you for information. But, I guess I should telephone someone else if..."

"No, please!" Artie interrupts. "I'd be happy to help. I was only wondering. Uh, you know. It's not every day we get a phone call from a show choir consultant," Jesse bites his lip to keep from laughing. "And, well, I've never been the one people call. Finn's our male lead and Puck, Mike and Matt just show up to rehearsal. Kurt and I, we wish we'd get more solos, but..."

"Just A the Q. Answer the question. Do you all use her?"

"Not - not all of us. I mean, Finn's probably the closest thing she has to a friend in the club..."

"Your male lead?"

"Yeah. I think they're dating, actually..."

_Dating?_

"Dating?"

So Rachel is like so many other starlets before her, falling for her male lead. How clichéd.

"Rachel falls for guys who can sing," Artie explains. "Actually, it's more like she falls for guys who sing _with_ her."

Ah! That's useful information right there. Jesse smiles, jotting down this new bit.

"Do you think Rachel would ever fall for someone on a competing team?"

"No, never! She's a lot of things... self-centered, annoying, abrasive but." He hears Artie take a breath. "She's trustworthy."

"Artie, I just have one more question for you," Jesse says, realizing he's not going to dig up much more information on Rachel tonight. "If you all know how valuable Rachel is, why don't you stand up for her?"

"I - uh - well." He hears Artie's voice crack, before he clears his throat. "Look, we like her enough. Watching her perform gives all of us chills. We're like a big, loud, spotlight hogging family. But we love her. You just don't know Rachel."

"Actually, I don't think anyone in New Directions does either."

* * *

><p>Jesse's wearing a Red Sox baseball hat and oversized Ray-Bans, as he walks into the Breadstix. He figures no one will ever guess that he, a future New Yorker, would ever root for the Sox nor would he ever deign to wear sunglasses inside. He knows that his future as a successful Broadway star - slash - struggling alcoholic or drug addict is as inevitable as his Tony award winning performance as Fiyero on <em>Wicked<em>.

A middle-aged woman with thinning blonde hair approaches him.

"Good afternoon! Welcome to Breadstix. How many are in your party?"

"Hi, it's just one," is his brisk reply. When the hostess makes a motion to get a menu for him, he quickly adds, "Is Finn Hudson working today?"

"Yes, I can sit you in his section."

"Perfect."

And that's how Jesse now finds himself sitting alone in a booth with stale breadsticks and flat water.

Really, do these people even know that Perrier exists?

"Hi, welcome to Breadstix! My name is Finn."

Jesse looks up and up and studies the boy in front of him. So this is his main competition? _Really? That's it?_

Jesse isn't blind or delusional. He can see that Finn is attractive in his own way. A huge lumbering mess during performances, yes, but he has more charisma in one of his dimples than the rest of his haggard male teammates can ever hope to acquire. But aside from all of that, what does Rachel see in him?

"What are the day's specials?"

"Oh, uh..." Finn falters. The blank expression makes Jesse roll his eyes liberally and he thanks his forethought at having worn his father's outdated sunglasses inside. Finn is nothing more than an overgrown infant. Jesse watches as he knits his eyebrows together, trying to remember the day's specials, a sheen of sweat on his forehead, no doubt due to the exertion he must do when he carries plates to and from the kitchen to his patrons. He concludes his spiel on the day's specials and smiles.

"Do you need a few more minutes to decide?"

"No," Jesse deadpans, handing Finn his menu. "I want three things: the vegetable casserole, a side of fettuccine alfredo, and information on Rachel Berry."

Finn opens and closes his mouth three times before he blinks.

"How do you know Rachel Berry?" he blurts and Jesse sees the rosy hue of his cheeks darkening.

Lucky for Jesse, he's a wonderful actor. Improvisation is second-nature to him. He smiles and sits a bit straighter.

"Not that it's really any of your business." He leans forward, pretending to read Finn's nameplate. "Finn, but I'm a talent scout from New York, actually. I heard that there was a talented 5'3" demoiselle in Lima, Ohio and thought it in my best interest to scout her." He pauses, watching the teen. "I figured since word of Rachel's talent reached my discerning ears all the way in New York City, that everyone in Lima ought to know of her. And in case you're wondering, New York is on the other side of the country, so my coming here is kind of a big deal. So, are you going to answer my question?"

"Yes, sure! Definitely." Finn smiles. Huge. Teethy. Dimples prominent. The smile of jubilation. "Wow, this is great news for Rach. I know she really wants to be on Broadway and stuff, so wow. Wait, uh, Broadway's in New York, right?"

Jesse clenches his jaw and takes a steadying breath before pasting on his show face.

"Right."

"Great. Uh, well." Finn scratches his head, sheepish, that same jubilant smile on his face. "I'm going to put in your order first, but then I promise to answer all of your questions."

"Fine by me."

True to his word, Finn returns five minutes later, a basket of "fresh" breadsticks in his hands.

"Thought I'd bring you more breadsticks. You know, since my bosses might start wondering why I came back here so soon," he explains, though Jesse can almost feel Finn's nose nudging his anus from how far he's sniffing. Brown nosers can spot their own kind, after all, and Jesse is a notorious brown noser at Carmel.

"Thank you." He gives Finn a wry smile. "So, what do you know about Rachel Berry?"

At the sound of Rachel's name, Finn smiles again.

"She's the best singer I've heard in my life. She's definitely gonna make it outta here. Y'know? Listening to her sing, wow. It's like an out of body experience. If I knew what it was like, but it's how I imagine it would feel. Like, she's talented and, whatever, but there's more to it." Finn smiles softly and Jesse can't help but notice the almost reverential tone he's adopted. "She's super focused. My mom says she's got ambition, but it's not just that. Ever heard that expression what goes around, comes around?"

Jesse nods.

"Well, she gives the best. Not just of herself and her time, but—" He inhales and blows out a breath. "I'm not sayin' this right." He pulls at his hair, sounding agitated.

Jesse arches an eyebrow and Finn nods, before he continues.

"She's the kind of person who inspires those around her. It's like she gives out inspiration in loot bags or something. You know, like she's carrying around a bunch of inspiration and she's giving it away to everyone she meets and stuff?" He blushes at his final admission. "It's only right that she should get that back. Tenfold. She deserves the best," he concludes, smiling another soft smile.

Maybe Artie was right and they are dating.

"So you're in love with her," he asks bluntly.

As he predicts, Finn blushes before he sputters a response.

"We-we're kinda... dating."

"Kind of?"

"It's... complicated."

"So you don't think that if I were to cast her in a play on Broadway, far and away from Lima, that you would miss her?"

"But she's a star," Finn argues. "And, yeah, 'course I'd miss her. She's my best friend. Maybe the only real friend I've ever had."

Sensing that Finn is ten seconds from crying, Jesse asks him if his food is ready. Finn wordlessly nods and promises to be back with his food.

Jesse weighs his options. On the one hand, he can befriend Rachel like he'd promised Shelby he'd do. Talk to the girl. Gain her confidence. Talk Shelby up a little before coming clean. _Or_, he could do what his heart is telling him to do right now: romance Rachel. Get her to fall in love with him. Inspire him to be a better performer. Help him make his dreams come true. Then, he'd talk Shelby up a bit and come clean.

"Do you want any pepper," Finn asks, setting Jesse's food down in front of him.

"No, thank you."

Finn opens his mouth to say something, but he stops himself.

"Yes, Finn?"

"I'm sorry I got all worked up before. I hope it doesn't affect Rachel's shot of making it out of here."

"It won't," Jesse answers truthfully.

"Good," Finn says, relieved. "How's the - uh, how's the food?"

"Well, the breadsticks are stale, but other than that, it's good," Jesse says through a mouthful of casserole. "Anything else you want to share about Rachel or do you just like hovering around my table?"

"Yeah, there is."

Jesse puts his fork down. "Let's hear it, then."

Finn takes a deep breath and sets his jaw.

"She's a hard worker. She's honest. She pushes people. She's a perfectionist. And, sure, that makes her bossy, but sometimes I think our club needs it. She smells like Christmas. She listens. She's, like, really intense. And sometimes, she gets this look in her eye that makes her look totally hot. She's like, sneaky hot." He smiles. "And yeah, she wears these crazy sweaters with weird animals on them, but somehow... it works for her." He licks his lips and sighs. "Look, all I'm trying to say is, I know she'd do _great_ in New York. And I should probably stop talking before I ruin her chances at ever getting out of here, right?"

Jesse almost feels sorry for the kid. Almost. He looks desperate and desperation is one emotion Jesse just does not understand. He takes up his fork again.

"I'm sure you didn't."

"Good 'cause I know how much she wants to be famous and I know I have the tendency to put my foot in it. And-and, sure I'll miss her when she leaves, but she'd be great in your company, or whatever it's called. She's really... trustworthy. Like I said, she's probably the only real friend I've ever had."

Having said this, Finn nods politely and walks to another table in his section that has recently become occupied.

Jesse watches him fumble through the specials again and makes his decision.

When Finn comes back to pick up Jesse's dishes, he's mindful to keep their conversation on the lunch, rather than on Rachel. Jesse asks for the cheque and, just as Finn starts to walk away, Jesse stops him and asks him where he can meet Rachel.

"Kubrick and Music," Finn replies. "She goes there almost every Monday."

* * *

><p>It's been three weeks since Sectionals 2009.<p>

Two weeks since his talk with the members of the Black Students Union. Twelve days since he attended a meeting of the Mock UN. Ten days since he emailed the presidents of the Renaissance Club and the Muslim Students Club. Seven days since he met with Lauren Zizes in the school parking lot and phoned Artie "Hot Wheelz" Abrams.

And five days since he spoke with Finn Hudson.

Since then, Jesse has taken to going to basketball games at McKinley and chatting up random people. Sure, most of them have never even heard the name Rachel Berry, but those who have? They all say the same thing: the girl has a compulsive need to be right and a strange affinity for sweaters with animals on them. But, she's hot. And trustworthy. In fact, every single person Jesse interviewed said she was someone he could trust. Ergo, if Jesse can trust Rachel Berry, he's sure to meet a girl who's honest, loyal, dependable, and frank.

All in all Jesse is convinced, now more than ever, that what he is doing is for the best.

He needs someone he can trust on his rise to fame.

And yeah, sure. The truth is he's doing this for Shelby, but there's no reason why he (or Rachel, for that matter) shouldn't get something out of it, too. He knows that as much as he's going to get out of a relationship with Rachel, that she's sure to get just as much out of having a relationship with him. They're one of a kind; two rising, luminescent stars in a county full of mediocrity and complacency.

Rachel Berry needs him, just as he needs her.

And if his latest conversation with Jacob Ben Israel is any indication, Finn dumped Rachel. She must be devastated, Jesse thinks, giving a winning smile to his reflection in the rearview mirror. He looks once around the parking lot outside of "Kubrick and Music" and pushes his door open.

He makes his way to the entrance, knowing full-well that he's bound to see Rachel Berry that Monday afternoon if Finn's intel on her Monday routine is anything to go by. Jesse knows the lovesick boy was honest when he spoke of Rachel's habit of going to the music store on Mondays. He'd been too concerned with helping Rachel make it big to outright lie to a talent scout from the Big Apple. Jesse loves gullibility; it makes his inevitable ascent to the top that much easier. And in the case of Finn Hudson, male lead of the worst show choir since the days Sandy Ryerson tried to get his cat choir into the competition, his gullibility provided Jesse with the information he needed to come face to face with his next conquest.

Jesse smiles when he spots Rachel perusing through vinyl records again. Just like last time. And just like last time, she looks enticing in her short maroon skirt and navy blue shirt. The bow across her chest is like a sign from the Broadway Gods that she's a gift for Jesse; a respite from the common girl in Ohio. Finally a girl who is worthy of his time and talent. He makes note of the fierce, determined shine in her eyes, but still notices the slight puffiness underneath. Has she been losing sleep over the buffoon? At least Jesse will be there to pick up the pieces.

Rachel picks up Lionel Richie's _Hello_ on vinyl and at once, Jesse knows how to make his grand entrance.

When Rachel's gaze is fixed on the liner notes, he stalks up to her. While leaning forward, his elbows propped up against the shelves, he gently pulls down on the cover, coming face to face with his new target. His new goal. Brown eyes grow three times their size and Rachel's ever-powerful mouth slightly hangs open, the shape of an "O" curving on her lips. He gives her a confident smile, his ego receiving a powerful boost by her awed expression.

"Lionel Richie, huh?" He says, smirking. "One of my favorites."

"Oh my god. You're Jesse St. James."

Of course _she_ would know who he is. He is, after all, the main reason why Vocal Adrenaline is such an imposing threat to New Directions. But there's no reason to clue her in on that. It's best if he plays it cool; warms her up to him. Jesse knows himself and knows that all aspiring celebrities are one and the same. The best way to get through to Rachel is through flattery. If he, the great and uber-talented Jesse St. James knows who she is, odds are she'll be more willing to succumb to his wiles. (_Subterfuge_ is such an ugly word.)

"And you're Rachel Berry," he says, smoldering. He stands to his full height and manages to take the record from her hands. "I saw you perform at Sectionals." Vulnerability and pride, a predictable mix of emotions for someone as talented, but friendless, as Rachel to have, flashes on her face. A combination of emotions Jesse used to experience, but he's since learned it's better to be alone by choice than have to carry the weight of lazy teammates. He's not in Vocal Adrenaline to make friends and neither are his teammates. They're there for the sole intent to _win_. Surely Rachel can relate to that. Seeing those two emotions on her expressive visage, tells him so. Rachel is just like him. He reasons, then, that she's sure to appreciate his critique of her performance; all great stars thrive on constructive criticism.

"Your rendition of 'Don't Rain On My Parade' was flawed," he says, tone crisp and professional. "You totally lack Barbra's emotional depth." Predictably, her face falls. He pauses for effect and smiles. "But you're talented."

A rosy tinge spreads across her cheeks just as Jesse gives her a small smile, one he knows breaks hearts. A shy, reverent smile grows on her face and Jesse knows: he's got the girl.

* * *

><p><strong><em>the end.<em>**

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>I was a little nervous about posting this, since it's kind of uncharted territory for me. I love Jesse. I love how driven, smart, egotistical and overconfident he is, so I hope I did right by his character. Please let me know what you think.


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